DEAR ABRAHAM,—I never met a parson in my life who did not consider the
Corporation and Test Acts as the great bulwarks of the Church; and yet it
is now just sixty-four years since bills of indemnity to destroy their
penal effects, or, in other words, to repeal them, have been passed
annually as a matter of course.
_Heu vatum ignar mentes_.
These bulwarks, without which no clergyman thinks he could sleep with his
accustomed soundness, have actually not been in existence since any man
now living has taken holy orders. Every year the Indemnity Act pardons
past breaches of these two laws, and prevents any fresh actions of
informers from coming to a conclusion before the period for the next
indemnity bill arrives; so that these penalties, by which alone the
Church remains in existence, have not had one moment’s operation for
sixty-four years. You will say the legislature, during the whole of this
period, has reserved to itself the discretion of suspending or not
suspending. But had not the legislature the right of re-enacting, if it
was necessary? And now when you have kept the rod over these people
(with the most scandalous abuse of all principle) for sixty-four years,
and not found it necessary to strike once, is not that the best of all
reasons why the rod should be laid aside? You talk to me of a very
valuable hedge running across your fields which you would not part with
on any account. I go down, expecting to find a limit impervious to
cattle, and highly useful for the preservation of property; but, to my
utter astonishment, I find that the hedge was cut down half a century
ago, and that every year the shoots are clipped the moment they appear
above ground: it appears, upon further inquiry, that the hedge never
ought to have existed at all; that it originated in the malice of
antiquated quarrels, and was cut down because it subjected you to vast
inconvenience, and broke up your intercourse with a country absolutely
necessary to your existence. If the remains of this hedge serve only to
keep up an irritation in your neighbours, and to remind them of the feuds
of former times, good nature and good sense teach you that you ought to
grub it up, and cast it into the oven. This is the exact state of these
two laws; and yet it is made a great argument against concession to the
Catholics, that it involves their repeal; which is to say, Do not make me
relinquish a folly that will lead to my ruin; because, if you do, I must
give up other follies ten times greater than this.
I confess, with all our bulwarks and hedges, it mortifies me to the quick
to contrast with our matchless stupidity and inimitable folly the conduct
of Bonaparte upon the subject of religious persecution. At the moment
when we are tearing the crucifixes from the necks of the Catholics, and
washing pious mud from the foreheads of the Hindoos; at that moment this
man is assembling the very Jews at Paris, and endeavouring to give them
stability and importance. I shall never be reconciled to mending shoes
in America; but I see it must be my lot, and I will then take a dreadful
revenge upon Mr. Perceval, if I catch him preaching within ten miles of
me. I cannot for the soul of me conceive whence this man has gained his
notions of Christianity: he has the most evangelical charity for errors
in arithmetic, and the most inveterate malice against errors in
conscience. While he rages against those whom in the true spirit of the
Gospel he ought to indulge, he forgets the only instance of severity
which that Gospel contains, and leaves the jobbers, contractors, and
money-changers at their seats, without a single stripe.
You cannot imagine, you say, that England will ever be ruined and
conquered; and for no other reason that I can find, but because it seems
so very odd it should be ruined and conquered. Alas! so reasoned, in
their time, the Austrian, Russian, and Prussian Plymleys. But the
English are brave: so were all these nations. You might get together a
hundred thousand men individually brave; but without generals capable of
commanding such a machine, it would be as useless as a first-rate
man-of-war manned by Oxford clergymen or Parisian shopkeepers. I do not
say this to the disparagement of English officers: they have had no means
of acquiring experience; but I do say it to create alarm; for we do not
appear to me to be half alarmed enough, or to entertain that sense of our
danger which leads to the most obvious means of self-defence. As for the
spirit of the peasantry in making a gallant defence behind hedge-rows,
and through plate-racks and hen-coops, highly as I think of their
bravery, I do not know any nation in Europe so likely to be struck with
the panic as the English; and this from their total unacquaintance with
the science of war. Old wheat and beans blazing for twenty miles round;
cart mares shot; sows of Lord Somerville’s breed running wild over the
country; the minister of the parish wounded sorely in his hinder parts;
Mrs. Plymley in fits. All these scenes of war an Austrian or a Russian
has seen three or four times over: but it is now three centuries since an
English pig has fallen in a fair battle upon English ground, or a
farm-house been rifled, or a clergyman’s wife been subjected to any other
proposals of love than the connubial endearments of her sleek and
orthodox mate. The old edition of Plutarch’s Lives, which lies in the
corner of your parlour window, has contributed to work you up to the most
romantic expectations of our Roman behaviour. You are persuaded that
Lord Amherst will defend Kew Bridge like Cocles; that some maid of honour
will break away from her captivity, and swim over the Thames; that the
Duke of York will burn his capitulating hand; and little Mr. Sturges
Bourne give forty years’ purchase for Moulsham Hall, while the French are
encamped upon it. I hope we shall witness all this, if the French do
come; but in the meantime I am so enchanted with the ordinary English
behaviour of these invaluable persons, that I earnestly pray no
opportunity may be given them for Roman valour, and for those very
un-Roman pensions which they would all, of course, take especial care to
claim in consequence. But whatever was our conduct, if every ploughman
was as great a hero as he who was called from his oxen to save Rome from
her enemies, I should still say, that at such a crisis you want the
affections of all your subjects in both islands: there is no spirit which
you must alienate, no art you must avert, every man must feel he has a
country, and that there is an urgent and pressing cause why he should
expose himself to death.
The effects of penal laws in matters of religion are never confined to
those limits in which the legislature intended they should be placed: it
is not only that I am excluded from certain offices and dignities because
I am a Catholic, but the exclusion carries with it a certain stigma,
which degrades me in the eyes of the monopolising sect, and the very name
of my religion becomes odious. These effects are so very striking in
England, that I solemnly believe blue and red baboons to be more popular
here than Catholics and Presbyterians; they are more understood, and
there is a greater disposition to do something for them. When a country
squire hears of an ape, his first feeling is to give it nuts and apples;
when he hears of a Dissenter, his immediate impulse is to commit it to
the county gaol, to shave its head, to alter its customary food, and to
have it privately whipped. This is no caricature, but an accurate
picture of national feelings, as they degrade and endanger us at this
very moment. The Irish Catholic gentleman would bear his legal
disabilities with greater temper, if these were all he had to bear—if
they did not enable every Protestant cheese-monger and tide-waiter to
treat him with contempt. He is branded on the forehead with a red-hot
iron, and treated like a spiritual felon, because in the highest of all
considerations he is led by the noblest of all guides, his own
disinterested conscience.
Why are nonsense and cruelty a bit the better because they are enacted?
If Providence, which gives wine and oil, had blessed us with that
tolerant spirit which makes the countenance more pleasant and the heart
more glad than these can do; if our Statute Book had never been defiled
with such infamous laws, the sepulchral Spencer Perceval would have been
hauled through the dirtiest horse-pond in Hampstead, had he ventured to
propose them. But now persecution is good, because it exists; every law
which originated in ignorance and malice, and gratifies the passions from
whence it sprang, we call the wisdom of our ancestors: when such laws are
repealed, they will be cruelty and madness; till they are repealed, they
are policy and caution.
I was somewhat amused with the imputation brought against the Catholics
by the University of Oxford, that they are enemies to liberty. I
immediately turned to my “History of England,” and marked as an
historical error that passage in which it is recorded that, in the reign
of Queen Anne, the famous degree of the University of Oxford respecting
passive obedience, was ordered by the House of Lords to be burnt by the
hands of the common hangman, as contrary to the liberty of the subject
and the law of the land. Nevertheless, I wish, whatever be the modesty
of those who impute, that the imputation was a little more true, the
Catholic cause would not be quite so desperate with the present.
Administration. I fear, however, that the hatred to liberty in these
poor devoted wretches may ere long appear more doubtful than it is at
present to the Vice-Chancellor and his Clergy, inflamed as they doubtless
are with classical examples of republican virtue, and panting, as they
always have been, to reduce the power of the Crown within narrower and
safer limits. What mistaken zeal to attempt to connect one religion with
freedom and another with slavery! Who laid the foundations of English
liberty? What was the mixed religion of Switzerland? What has the
Protestant religion done for liberty in Denmark, in Sweden, throughout
the north of Germany, and in Prussia? The purest religion in the world,
in my humble opinion, is the religion of the Church of England: for its
preservation (so far as it is exercised without intruding upon the
liberties of others) I am ready at this moment to venture my present
life, and but through that religion I have no hopes of any other; yet I
am not forced to be silly because I am pious; nor will I ever join in
eulogiums on my faith which every man of common reading and common sense
can so easily refute.
You have either done too much for the Catholics, worthy Abraham, or too
little; if you had intended to refuse them political power, you should
have refused them civil rights. After you had enabled them to acquire
property, after you had conceded to them all that you did concede in ’78
and ’93, the rest is wholly out of your power: you may choose whether you
will give the rest in an honourable or a disgraceful mode, but it is
utterly out of your power to withhold it.
In the last year, land to the amount of _eight hundred thousand pounds_
was purchased by the Catholics in Ireland. Do you think it possible to
be-Perceval, and be-Canning, and be-Castlereagh, such a body of men as
this out of their common rights, and their common sense? Mr. George
Canning may laugh and joke at the idea of Protestant bailiffs ravishing
Catholic ladies, under the 9th clause of the Sunset Bill; but if some
better remedy be not applied to the distractions of Ireland than the
jocularity of Mr. Canning, they will soon put an end to his pension, and
to the pension of those “near and dear relatives,” for whose eating,
drinking, washing, and clothing, every man in the United Kingdoms now
pays his two-pence or three-pence a year. You may call these
observations coarse, if you please; but I have no idea that the Sophias
and Carolines of any man breathing are to eat national veal, to drink
public tea, to wear Treasury ribands, and then that we are to be told
that it is coarse to animadvert upon this pitiful and eleemosynary
splendour. If this is right, why not mention it? If it is wrong, why
should not he who enjoys the ease of supporting his sisters in this
manner bear the shame of it? Everybody seems hitherto to have spared a
man who never spares anybody.
As for the enormous wax candles, and superstitious mummeries, and painted
jackets of the Catholic priests, I fear them not. Tell me that the world
will return again under the influence of the smallpox; that Lord
Castlereagh will hereafter oppose the power of the Court; that Lord
Howick and Mr. Grattan will do each of them a mean and dishonourable
action; that anybody who has heard Lord Redesdale speak once will
knowingly and willingly hear him again; that Lord Eldon has assented to
the fact of two and two making four, without shedding tears, or
expressing the smallest doubt or scruple; tell me any other thing absurd
or incredible, but, for the love of common sense, let me hear no more of
the danger to be apprehended from the general diffusion of Popery. It is
too absurd to be reasoned upon; every man feels it is nonsense when he
hears it stated, and so does every man while he is stating it.
I cannot imagine why the friends to the Church Establishment should enter
in such a horror of seeing the doors of Parliament flung open to the
Catholics, and view so passively the enjoyment of that right by the
Presbyterians and by every other species of Dissenter. In their tenets,
in their Church Government, in the nature of their endowments, the
Dissenters are infinitely more distant from the Church of England than
the Catholics are; yet the Dissenters have never been excluded from
Parliament. There are 45 members in one House, and 16 in the other, who
always are Dissenters. There is no law which would prevent every member
of the Lords and Commons from being Dissenters. The Catholics could not
bring into Parliament half the number of the Scotch members; and yet one
exclusion is of such immense importance, because it has taken place; and
the other no human being thinks of, because no one is accustomed to it.
I have often thought, if the _wisdom of our ancestors_ had excluded all
persons with red hair from the House of Commons, of the throes and
convulsions it would occasion to restore them to their natural rights.
What mobs and riots would it produce! To what infinite abuse and obloquy
would the capillary patriot be exposed; what wormwood would distil from
Mr. Perceval, what froth would drop from Mr. Canning; how (I will not say
_my_, but _our_ Lord Hawkesbury, for he belongs to us all)—how our Lord
Hawkesbury would work away about the hair of King William and Lord
Somers, and the authors of the great and glorious Revolution; how Lord
Eldon would appeal to the Deity and his own virtues, and to the hair of
his children: some would say that red-haired men were superstitious; some
would prove they were atheists; they would be petitioned against as the
friends of slavery, and the advocates for revolt; in short, such a
corruptor of the heart and understanding is the spirit of persecution,
that these unfortunate people (conspired against by their fellow-subjects
of every complexion), if they did not emigrate to countries where hair of
another colour was persecuted, would be driven to the falsehood of
perukes, or the hypocrisy of the Tricosian fluid.
As for the dangers of the Church (in spite of the staggering events which
have lately taken place), I have not yet entirely lost my confidence in
the power of common sense, and I believe the Church to be in no danger at
all; but if it is, that danger is not from the Catholics, but from the
Methodists, and from that patent Christianity which has been for some
time manufacturing at Clapham, to the prejudice of the old and admirable
article prepared by the Church. I would counsel my lords the Bishops to
keep their eyes upon that holy village, and its vicinity; they will find
there a zeal in making converts far superior to anything which exists
among the Catholics; a contempt for the great mass of English clergy,
much more rooted and profound; and a regular fund to purchase livings for
those groaning and garrulous gentlemen whom they denominate (by a
standing sarcasm against the regular Church) Gospel preachers and vital
clergymen. I am too firm a believer in the general propriety and
respectability of the English clergy, to believe they have much to fear
either from old nonsense or from new; but if the Church must be supposed
to be in danger, I prefer that nonsense which is grown half venerable
from time, the force of which I have already tried and baffled, which at
least has some excuse in the dark and ignorant ages in which it
originated. The religious enthusiasm manufactured by living men before
my own eyes disgusts my understanding as much, influences my imagination
not at all, and excites my apprehensions much more.
I may have seemed to you to treat the situation of public affairs with
some degree of levity; but I feel it deeply, and with nightly and daily
anguish; because I know Ireland; I have known it all my life; I love it,
and I foresee the crisis to which it will soon be exposed. Who can doubt
but that Ireland will experience ultimately from France a treatment to
which the conduct they have experienced from England is the love of a
parent, or a brother? Who can doubt but that five years after he has got
hold of the country, Ireland will be tossed away by Bonaparte as a
present to some one of his ruffian generals, who will knock the head of
Mr. Keogh against the head of Cardinal Troy, shoot twenty of the most
noisy blockheads of the Roman persuasion, wash his pug-dogs in holy
water, and confiscate the salt butter of the Milesian republic to the
last tub? But what matters this? or who is wise enough in Ireland to
heed it? or when had common sense much influence with my poor dear Irish?
Mr. Perceval does not know the Irish; but I know them, and I know that at
every rash and mad hazard they will break the Union, revenge their
wounded pride and their insulted religion, and fling themselves into the
open arms of France, sure of dying in the embrace. And now, what means
have you of guarding against this coming evil, upon which the future
happiness or misery of every Englishman depends? Have you a single ally
in the whole world? Is there a vulnerable point in the French empire
where the astonishing resources of that people can be attracted and
employed? Have you a ministry wise enough to comprehend the danger,
manly enough to believe unpleasant intelligence, honest enough to state
their apprehensions at the peril of their places? Is there anywhere the
slightest disposition to join any measure of love, or conciliation, or
hope, with that dreadful bill which the distractions of Ireland have
rendered necessary? At the very moment that the last Monarchy in Europe
has fallen, are we not governed by a man of pleasantry, and a man of
theology? In the six hundredth year of our empire over Ireland, have we
any memorial of ancient kindness to refer to? any people, any zeal, any
country on which we can depend? Have we any hope, but in the winds of
heaven and the tides of the sea? any prayer to prefer to the Irish, but
that they should forget and forgive their oppressors, who, in the very
moment that they are calling upon them for their exertions, solemnly
assure them that the oppression shall still remain?
Abraham, farewell! If I have tired you, remember how often you have
tired me and others. I do not think we really differ in politics so much
as you suppose; or at least, if we do, that difference is in the means,
and not in the end. We both love the Constitution, respect the King, and
abhor the French. But though you love the Constitution, you would
perpetuate the abuses which have been engrafted upon it; though you
respect the King, you would confirm his scruples against the Catholics;
though you abhor the French, you would open to them the conquest of
Ireland. My method of respecting my sovereign is by protecting his
honour, his empire, and his lasting happiness; I evince my love of the
Constitution by making it the guardian of all men’s rights and the source
of their freedom; and I prove my abhorrence of the French, by uniting
against them the disciples of every church in the only remaining nation
in Europe. As for the men of whom I have been compelled in this age of
mediocrity to say so much, they cannot of themselves be worth a moment’s
consideration, to you, to me, or to anybody. In a year after their death
they will be forgotten as completely as if they had never been; and are
now of no further importance than as they are the mere vehicles of
carrying into effect the common-place and mischievous prejudices of the
times in which they live.